Shrtiga
by J2MAlwaysForever
Summary: This is just a short fic on how I see John's relationship with the boys and the brotherly relationship the boys have with each other. I strongly believe while John made some mistakes as a father, he loved his sons more than anything. Different view on the Shrtiga hunt. It's my first fic I'm publishing so hope you enjoy! Teen!Chester Hurt!Dean Angsty!John Angsty!Sam :)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Hey Dean, where's Sammy?" John Winchester asked his 17-year-old son, Dean. They were sitting at the half-broken wooden table in their cheap motel room. Dean had his 9 mil disassembled in front of him. He hadn't cleaned it since John took them shooting last week; it was starting to rust.

"In the bathroom studying again probably," Dean said with a roll of his eyes. He never understood why Sam loved school so much. They were hardly at the same school for longer than a month anyways. School was pointless compared to the real-life monsters they had to hunt every day. There wasn't anything Dean could imagine doing besides hunting.

John pulled a beer out of the blue cooler he always carried with him and cracked open his Coors light. "I don't understand that kid," he sighed, as he felt the sweet taste of cold nectar slide down his throat. It'd been a long day for him.

Dean chuckled, swiping back his short brown hair so that the spikes stayed up at the front. "Yeah, me either," Dean answered, though he couldn't lie. He admired the knowledge his little brother had. He was smarter than both Dean and his father combined. The kid knew anything about anything. He was a walking encyclopedia.

"You got any more info on that shrtiga?" John asked, getting straight down to business as usual.

For the past two days the Winchesters had been held up in their hotel in Baldwin, Michigan, Dean, with the occasional help of Sammy, had been looking up info on a shrtiga that had supposedly made an appearance. John had asked him to do that and watch Sammy while he went out and interviewed the locals and did his own investigation in the town.

"Yeah, actually," Dean answered, eager to share the news with his father. There was nothing he loved more than to please his father. "I found out there's been a certain cycle with these guys. They seem to appear every 20 in the exact same spot. The town is a hotspot for them. This time, 20 years ago, a shrtiga took ten kids that were never found and the exact same thing 20 years before that. I was reading about them and legend has it they feed off life-fore. That's why they target children, because theirs is stronger."

"Any pattern on the ages?" John questioned thoughtfully.

"No," Dean answered honestly. "I checked, but they all seemed sporatic. No one below six and no one over eighteen."

"Hmm," John mused. "Any specific locations?"

Dean shook his head. "Not really. The kids were taken from busy, public places most often. Parks, schools, the Wal-Mart on Green street, anything like that. A few times they were taken from their own backyard, but the houses were close to public locations every time. Memorial Park in the center of town seems to be the most frequent spot."

"That fits the recent police reports," John informed his son, taking another swig of his beer. Dean's eyes lingered a little too long on his father's drink. He wanted a beer so bad. "I'm thinking I'll scout the park out tomorrow afternoon in case the sucker decides to show up," John finished once he'd swallowed.

Dean's eyes lit up at the prospect of the actual hunt. "Can I come?"

"Absolutely not," John answered in less than a second.

"Dad!" Dean said, his face falling as quickly as it lit up. He couldn't stand to stay in this motel room another day.

"Don't Dad me, Dean. You don't know how these things work. They target kids. You've only done a couple hunts on your own. If you go out there, you would be a target, and if you go, Sam has to go, and he's definitely not ready."

"Yes sir," Dean answered submissively, though he did not agree. He was tired of being sidelined since he got hurt on a hunt a couple weeks back. It was like he didn't trust him anymore. Sooner or later, his dad would have to let him hunt on his own.

John didn't say anything, but picked up the trigger well from Dean's weapon off the table and examined it closely. Dean watched nervously as his father took his index finger and swiped it across the inside of the trigger. He pulled it away with one swipe and sighed to Dean's dismay.

"The trigger well is still dirty. I don't know how many times I have to tell you to clean it," John said, tossing the trigger well at Dean.

Dean caught it and did his best to hide the disappointment on his face. He could never make his dad proud no matter what he did, not anymore anyways. It was the worst feeling in the world to Dean.

"Yes sir," Dean answered quietly, a solemn expression on his face.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opened. Sure enough, out walked 13-year-old Sammy carrying 3 textbooks in his hands filled with papers. Dean laughed at his little brother. He was something else.

"What's up nerd?" Dean taunted.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam retorted instantly, his high pitched voice cracking.

That made Dean laugh even harder. "Dude, talk to me when you've hit puberty and are taller than 5'7."

"Jerk," Sam answered, a hint of a smile twinkling in his eyes.

"Bitch," Dean reacted instantly.

"Boys," John warned, causing both of the brothers to shut up instantly. They never wanted to anger their father. He'd never hit them, but he could sure be mean when he was ticked off.

"What you got there, Sammy?" John asked, a few minutes after the boys had stopped arguing.

Sammy shrugged and swiped his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. He barely even acknowledged his father. "just some books," he answered vaguely.

His answer angered Dean. John never asked Dean about what he was doing, or his interests. Anytime John interacted with him it was always an order, about a hunt, or hell about Sam. To Dad, Dean was just a loyal solider; a loyal soldier that would sacrifice his life for his family. Dean didn't even think John remembered who he was before hunting. He hated this life sometimes.

John looked like he was about to say more when the police scanner went off from the bedside end table. All talking seized as John picked it up and held it close to his ear. They all listened; even Sam who was still engrossed with his books couldn't hide his curiosity. A woman's voice spoke loudly over the radio.

"Attention all units; attention all units," the dispatcher said. "A kidnapping has been reported at 1046 Spruce Street near the high school. All units be on the lookout for a Caucausion teenager, age 15, last seen wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt, jeans, and converse shoes. Victim is named Dustin Andrews, is roughly 5'9 in height and approximately 175 pounds. Andrews has blonde hair, blue eyes, and a scar under his left eye. No indication of subject. Subject should be considered armed and dangerous. If seen, make contact immediately."

As soon as the woman stopped talking, John grabbed his navy blue cargo jacket. He started moving quickly, grabbing his own pistol from the table and his bag full of his hunting equipment.

"I'm going to check it out," he told his boys. He looked towards just Dean now. "Take care of Sam and only call me if there's an emergency. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Dean answered automatically. It seemed like he said those words more than anything lately.

John didn't say another word before he left. Dean locked the doors behind him as he took off in the 1967 Chevy Impala that Dean adored so much. After he turned out of the parking lot, Dean turned and grabbed his dad's unfinished beer off the table and took a drink for himself.

"really, Dean?" Sam asked, unamused.

Dean grinned at his punk little brother. "What?" he asked innocently. "Can't a man have a drink?!"

"That's what all alcoholics say before they become addicted," Sammy says back.

Dean looked at Sam, surprised by his comment. Sam broke into a cheeky grin and then both he and Dean started laughing.

"You asshole," Dean joked and picked Sam up, throwing him over his shoulder.

"Put me down, Dean!" Sam hollered and pounded on Dean's back. Sam's 130-pound body was no match for Dean's stocky build though.

Dean cackled and threw Sam down onto the bed. Sam tried to retaliate and hit Dean, but Dean was too quick and strong for him. He grabbed Sam's fist in his hand and bent Sam's arm backwards until Sam yelped in pain, not a lot to hurt him, but enough to make him uncomfortable. His dad had taught him well.

"Ow, Dean! Stop!" Sam shouted, pissed off now.

"Say Uncle!" Dean teased, pushing back on his arm for a brief second.

"Ow, Dean! Uncle!" he yelled.

"Damn, you're no fun, Sam," Dean said as he released him. "You need to buff out a little dude. You got no meat on those bones."

"Maybe I would if I ate more than cereal and a sandwich every night for dinner," Sam answered as he unzipped his brown cargo jacket and threw it to the side.

That took all the playfulness out of Dean. He hated that they were always low on food. He never had enough food to adequately feed his brother. There was nothing he hated more than watching his brother be hungry, hearing his stomach growl as he slept every night. He'd never tell Sam this, but most of the time Dean gave Sam most of his rations. Dean only ate enough to keep his body going. He knew he needed to talk to Dad about it; he just hadn't gotten around to it yet.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam said as soon as he noticed the look on his big brother's face. "I didn't mean it like it's your fault. I know you do the best you can."

"Yeah, I know, Sammy," Dean replied softly. "I just wish it were different for you. You shouldn't have to grow up like this."

"Neither should you," Sam answered.

Dean's emerald green eyes met Sam's brown and they stared at each other for a long moment. The brothers shared the struggle of this life together and that had made them bond in a way Dean would never have with anyone else. Sammy was his other half. If anything happened to him, Dean would be a wreck. He would die without him and Dean knew Sam felt the same way about him. They looked out for each other. That's what brothers do.

The lights flickered suddenly, causing both Dean and Sam to freeze instantly. They flickered again and Dean immediately reassembled his pistol, inserting his magazine of 9mm rounds in when he was finished. These bullets were silver and had rock salt in them. If a spirit, shifter, or something along the lines of that were here, they weren't getting to Sam.

The door started shaking violently, causing both Dean and Sam to jump. Now, Dean knew something was trying to get in.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, terrified. He hadn't had much experience with monsters yet, especially with his father not being there.

Dean swore under his breath, feeling his heart beat quicken at the thought of something getting Sam. He had to protect Sam at all costs, no matter what. It was an order he always promised his father he'd obey, but it was also a promise Dean made to himself. He wasn't going to let either of them down.

"Go lock yourself in the bathroom!" Dean commanded of Sam.

"I'm not going without you!" Sam yelled, tugging at his brother's arm.

"I'll be fine, just go!" Dean yelled, impatiently. He hated seeing his brother so scared. "Lock the door and don't open it for anyone! If it's me, I'll whistle okay?"

Sam just looked at Dean with wide fearful eyes. They'd never really dealt with a monster without their dad being there. If Dean was ever sent off on his own, John was only a minute or so away. Dean took a deep breath. This was the time for Dean to prove to his father he could do it.

"Go, Sam!" Dean yelled, shoving him towards the door. Sam did as he asked out of fear and Dean waited until he heard the click of the door lock before continuing.

Dean jumped into action right away. He grabbed the salt his dad left stashed under the table. He made salt lines across the doorways, windowsills, and any other place he thought a spirit could get in from, including the door to the bathroom. As long as Sam was safe that was all that mattered.

Just as he finished, the lights went out completely. Dean froze, his heart beating rapidly. It was pitch black in the room and everything was dead quiet. Whatever was out there could be behind him right now and he wouldn't even know it. His hand tightened on his weapon. This wasn't good.

The T.V. turned on suddenly, causing Dean to gasp. "Son of a bitch," Dean swore under his breath. That could've been a spirit, or just the faulty wires. It'd happened to them before here.

Something clicked with him then. Dean remembered a few newspaper articles online dealing with the shrtiga cases. Often times before a victim was taken, parents and witnesses reported a blackout, an electricity surge, and then the kids were just gone.

"oh hell no," Dean said and pulled out his cellphone. If a shrtiga was here, it wasn't by coincidence. It must've gotten a whiff of their dad and was targeting them now. John never told him how to kill these things and Dean could never find it online. He swore at himself. He was so stupid sometimes. Now, he had no choice but to call his father.

Dean punched in John's number with shaky hands. He could hear his heartbeat pounding out of his chest. He prayed his father would answer.

"Dean?" he heard his father's voice ask after four rings. He already sounded worried. He knew Dean usually never called. He had too much pride.

"Dad, it's here," Dean whispered through the phone. "It found us. I think it's in here with me."

"Wait what?" John asked, his voice rising in a panic. "Where are you? Where's Sam?"

"Sam's hiding. I had him lock himself in the bathroom. Dad, how do I kill this thing?"

"You're not going to be able to," John told him, speaking quickly. His voice sounded strained, and that scared Dean even more. He never let his feelings show. "It has to be vulnerable. It has to be feeding and you need concentrated iron rounds. I have the only ones." Dean could hear John's breath and knew he was running now. "Just grab Sammy and run. I'll come find you. Shoot it with all you got. It won't kill it, but it might weaken it."

Before Dean had the chance to answer, something grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off his feet. Dean moaned and felt his body go limp as sharp nails dug into his skin. He stared into the eyes of what looked like an old hag, her skin grey and wrinkly, her eyes blacker than the night sky. She wore a black cloak over her body like a witch. Dean reached for his weapon, but he was too late. She opened her mouth and all Dean saw was a bright white light and then he felt his body go limp as his eyes immediately started to droop. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, his phone lying beside

him. Dean couldn't move; he was paralyzed.

"Dean?" he heard his father ask, the line still connected. Dean didn't answer; couldn't answer. "Dean are you okay?" John asked, this time speaking louder.

The shrtiga appeared before him then, leaning down so close that Dean could smell its nasty breath. It was dark, but Dean could see her now illuminated black eyes. She must be going off of Dean's lifeforce. Dean felt as if he couldn't breathe as the hag stared into his soul. This was one nasty bitch.

The shrtiga reached out with long, skinny fingers and touched the top of Dean's forehead. Dean felt his eyes start to close against his will, his body drained from his life-force being taken. He tried desperately to move, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't.

"Dean!" he heard his father scream this time.

He wanted to reply, wanted to tell his father that it was okay, that at least Sam was safe for now, but he didn't get the chance. The last thought that entered Dean's brain was his brother. He hoped to God that kid wouldn't be taken. That was all he could think about before the whole world seemed to fade to black around him.


	2. Chapter 2

A cool, brisk gust of wind awoke Dean from his stupor. The first thing he saw when his vision cleared were trees all around him. He was in a woods somewhere, but couldn't tell much more in the darkness of the night. He listened closely and could hear a stream running somewhere to the west of him. The only other sound he could hear was the rustling of bushes as critters explored in the dark.

When his disorientation completely went away, he realized he wasn't touching the ground. Dean panicked a little and tried to move. He looked down only to find a rope tied around his arms and torso, holding him prisoner against a tree. Dean felt the bark scrape his back as he tried to escape. He groaned as he felt a nasty headache coming on. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Dad was going to kill him.

Sam. Oh God, where was Sam? Dean quickly scanned the area in front of him looking for any signs of him. He swore. He couldn't see anything in the damn dark. Dean felt physically sick to his stomach. His brother was either taken by the shrtiga like he had, or he was out there on his own. Either way Dean had failed him. He prayed Dad had found Sam. If anything had happened to him, especially on Dean's watch…

The hag appeared before Dean again. She was just as ugly as the last time he'd seen her. He shuddered, feeling cold chills run up and down his spine. This was one scary bitch. She literally looked like the typical scary witch out of every horror movie, complete with the moles and rotten teeth. Dean gagged as her rotten breath filled his nostrils.

"I'm not usually picky on the ladies, but sweetheart, you are fugly," Dean told the hag, showing no fear. He had to see if she understood him.

The hag let out an ear-piercing scream and clawed Dean across the face with her sharp nails. Dean grunted as he felt the hot streaks of blood run down his face. Yep. The shrtiga definitely understood him.

"Son of bitch!" Dean swore after she disappeared again.

"Don't talk, you'll piss it off," a voice to his right said.

If Dean wasn't tied to a tree, he would've jumped a mile. "Who's out there?" Dean asked, thinking he'd been alone this whole time.

"Dustin Andrews," the voice answered, proving that Dean wasn't crazy.

Dean recognized that name. It was the kid that had come across the police scanner; the kid his father had went to search for. "Damn it," Dean swore again. "My dad was supposed to be saving your ass."

"What're you talking about?"

"Nothing," Dean responded, knowing the kid would have no clue what he was talking about. "Where are the others?"

"I've only seen one other guy," Dustin said, his voice cracking. "It fed on the both of us yesterday, and it killed him. That bitch took his body from the tree you're tied to into the woods somewhere. It fed on me again when I came back and I passed out.

Dean swore. The others must be dead then. Dean didn't have time to respond because the hag returned then, letting out a howling shriek to let her presence be known. Instead of going up to Dean, the creature went to Dustin. Dustin screamed as the creature hit him like she had Dean. Dean winced, but otherwise kept quiet. As much as he wanted to help, he wasn't any good to Dustin dead. He had to play this smart, carefully.

Suddenly, the creature was upon Dean. Dean didn't have time to react before the shrtiga put her hand on Dean's forehead. The bitch opened her mouth, and an unseen force caused Dean to open his too.

An odd feeling entered Dean's body, just like the last time only stronger. He felt his body weakening by the second. He tried to fight, but the rope constricted him from moving. All he could see was the shrtiga's shiny black eyes illuminated by a bright white light in between them. it registered to Dean that she was taking his life-force, but he couldn't do anything to stop it. if he listened closely, he could faintly hear Dustin yelling. _Shut up, kid_ , Dean wanted to say. Soon, his whole body felt like jello and he no longer even had the energy to fight, or even think really. He knew something wasn't right. She was killing him.

"Dean?" he heard Dustin say quietly. Dean was starting to get this odd buzzing in his ears. His vision was beginning to cloud. A tight pain in his chest caused him to moan. He wasn't sure what dying felt like, but he was betting this was close.

"St…stop,"Dean groaned, his eyelids starting to droop against his will. He could physically feel his heartbeat slowing as the pain in his chest only worsened. Dean knew now that he was dying.

Just as Dean closed his eyes, he heard someone shout. His eyes remained shut, but he could hear some type of fight. Dean felt an odd heat radiate over his body and then silence. Dean tried to open his eyes, but couldn't. He didn't know what was wrong with him.

"Dean!" he heard a voice gasp. He recognized it as his father's. Maybe it was the buzzing messing with his hearing, but Dean swore his father sounded _terrified_. "Dean, hang on!"

He tried as hard as he could to reply, but Dean just couldn't. The shrtiga had taken too much energy from him.

Dean could feel his father cutting the rope tying him to the tree. The next thing he knew, Dean was slumped over in his father's arms, unable to hold himself up. He was completely limp as John was forced to carry the 180-pounds of his son's body weight.

"I got you, Dean. it's okay," his dad said to him. He had never heard his father be so gentle towards him. Dean must be in worse shape than he had thought.

John set Dean down on the grass. Dean felt his head being propped up in John's lap and felt like such a baby. A small moan escaped his throat as he felt the pain from his chest travel all the way down his body. He literally felt like his heart was going to explode.

His father shook him lightly, trying to get him to stir. That shrtiga took everything out of Dean. He was literally paralyzed. All he wanted to do was say something to his dad, _anything,_ just to let him know that everything was okay, that he was fine, but nothing would happen no matter how hard he tried.

Dean felt two cold fingers on the side of his neck and then a sigh of relief from his father. He had thought he was dead. "Okay hang on, kiddo," Dean heard him say. He heard his father shuffling around and then the sounds of numbers being punched into his phone. "Bobby…hey…Dean's hurt, damn shrtiga took his life-force. I can't get him to open his eyes, Bobby. His pulse is slow. Bobby, he's not moving, he's nearly…" John didn't finish. He sounded choked up. "What do I do?" he finally finished.

"Yeah…" John continued. "Okay. Okay, yeah I'll meet you…thanks Bobby."

All Dean could do was listen. He listened to his father rummage around some more until he finally spoke again. "Hey Ace, this is going to hurt okay?"

Before Dean knew what was happening he heard the shock of a taser turn on and then then it fired. Dean's eyes flew open as the electricity jolted through his body. He wished his father had never gotten that stupid thing to deal with rawheads. He screamed as waves of electricity flew through him, seeming to give his body a sort of restart. He could feel everything now.

"You with me Dean?" John asked after Dean rode the lightening for the longest 5 seconds of his life. Dean looked up at his father and nodded. He tried to respond to him, but coughed up a lung instead. He may be mobile for now, but he still felt like crap. He felt like he'd been stabbed in the chest over and over. He'd never felt anything like it.

"Easy, Ace," his father said gently as he knelt beside him. He wrapped an arm around Dean's waist and hoisted him up, Dean grimacing the whole way.

"Dhhd…" Dean said, his voice raspy. He'd rather not talk, but he had to know. "Shhmy?"

"Sammy's okay, dude. Caleb came and picked him up while I was looking for you."

Caleb? Caleb lived like six hours from here. "How-?"

"One day," his father answered as if he could read his mind. "You've been missing one day. Longest day of my life," Dean heard John mutter under his breath.

"Dhhd…I'sorry…" Dean mumbled. He'd apologize more later, but that was all he could muster up right now.

"Hey dude, don't apologize," John told him as they reached the outskirts of the woodline. He could see the Impala in the distance and smiled. His trip to Hell was over. "Just don't disappear on me again alright?"

Dean didn't say anything and John helped lower him into the front seat. John literally had to lift his legs in for him. Dean felt like such a wimp. He couldn't believe he let a shtriga get the jump on him. He would never forgive himself for this. Sammy could've gotten hurt, and it would've been on his watch. Nothing would ever make that better.

"Dustin…" Dean coughed. "Tied to tree.."

"I know. I'm going back for him right now, okay?" John told him. "You just sit tight."

Dean breathed a laugh. "Not goin..anywhere."

John huffed. "Smartass," he said and then ran off.

It wasn't long before Dean couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and drifted to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

This time when Dean awoke, he found himself in a queen sized bed. He groaned, feeling a nasty headache coming on. He sat up in his bed, covering his eyes as the sunlight pierced through the unblocked window. He quickly realized he was in a motel, but not the same one they had been at.

"Dean!" A chipper voice exclaimed from his bedside. Dean looked over and sighed in relief when he saw his little brother sitting in a chair next to his bed, smiling and completely unharmed. It was like he could breathe again.

"Sammy…you're okay?" Dean asked. He had to make sure.

"I'm okay, Dean," Sam said with a smile. His smile faded quickly though. "Are you okay? You've been asleep for a week. I was starting to think…" Sam doesn't finish.

"A week?!" Dean exclaims, wincing at the pain it caused his head.

"Easy, Dean," his father said, suddenly appearing before them from the small kitchen area. "What do you remember?"

Dean thought back to the horrible events. "Not much. I remember that soul sucking bitch trying to kill me and then you stopping her, but that's about it."

John nodded. "When I came back with Dustin, you had passed out again. I dropped Dustin off and raced you here. Bobby met us here. He gave me this potion from a healer he knew in Sioux Falls. You were pretty touch and go for a while, having seizures, the whole 9 yards. Scared about 10 years off my life, boy."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You hocus-pocused me?" he asked, bewildered. He couldn't believe his father gave him a freakin _potion_. John never did anything involving mosters, witchcraft, the works. He hated the damn things too much.

His father chuckled. "She wasn't much of a witch, Dean. All natural herbs and remedies. It was a longshot, but it worked."

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Did you kill the bitch at least?"

John looked down, and Dean already knew the answer. "No, I only weakened it, but it was enough to make her disappear. She was wounded pretty bad. Another twenty years and I'm sure she'll be back, but we'll be ready for her this time."

Dean nodded. "When can we get out of here?"

"As soon as you're ready. Bobby's got a case for us. Said to meet him at his place once you were on your feet. Pretty sure he just wants to see you're okay for himself though."

A warm feeling spread in Dean's chest. It was nice knowin Bobby loved him as if he was his own. He loved Uncle Bobby as his second father. "Let's go now," Dean said.

"I'll go get the car ready," john said, pleased, and then disappeared from the room.

Once gone, Dean looked over to Sam, who was struggling to keep his eyes open. "You sure you're okay, Sammy? You look like crap."

Sam smiled. "I'm good, Dean. I just haven't really slept much. I haven't done anything except sit here with you. Dad made me go get food a couple times, but that was it. I swear I never left your side more than I had to. I made sure you were okay, Dean." He looked down and Dean swore he saw a tear. "I thought you were going to die, Dean."

Dean grinned, not wanting to make this more of a chick flick moment than it already was. he sat on the edge of the bed next to his little brother. "Oh please, Samantha. You're not getting rid of me that easy. Don't be such a girl." he said, ruffling his hairs. Dean quickly became more serious though. "Sammy, I am so _sorry,"_ he said genuinely. "I promise you I'll never leave you like that again. I'm so sorry, Sam."

Sam stared at him a moment before laughing. Dean was glad he laughed it off; he was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. It didn't take away the meaning though. Dean wouldn't leave his side as long as he lived.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam joked.

"Bitch," Dean fired back.

"Jerk," Sam countered.

"Boys! Get a move on!" John yelled from the doorway.

Sam put a supporting arm around his brother and together the two of them walked out of the motel and drove off with their father towards the next Winchester vs. monster battle.


End file.
